


Team

by cosmic_llin



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Early in Canon, Friendship, Gen, Slice of Life, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:44:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/pseuds/cosmic_llin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>B'Elanna and Harry are on each other's team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Team

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mylittleredgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittleredgirl/gifts).



They’ve been on Voyager a matter of hours, and the new uniform still feels too tight and high around B’Elanna’s neck, when the entire - new, cobbled together - Engineering and Operations department is summoned. The guy who seems to be in charge - Lieutenant Carey, he says his name is - talks them through the repairs that need completing. B’Elanna thinks, this isn’t how I’d do it, if we were on my ship now, and she sees the same image she’s been seeing over and over since it happened - the _Val Jean_ exploding, the pieces scattering. She shudders.

‘One last thing,’ says Carey. ‘We’re going to be working in teams of two or three. Mixed - from both crews.’

A mutter of protest rises.

‘Captain’s orders,’ says Carey. ‘And Commander Chakotay backed her up. I don’t like it any more than you do but that’s what we’ve got. Form teams and come get your assignments from me.’

B’Elanna’s heart thuds. She looks wildly around at the Starfleet personnel. She doesn’t like the look of any of them much, and from the expressions on their faces, the feeling is mutual. She decides not to wait around like the last kid to be picked for soccer. She pushes her way through the crowd until she spots Harry Kim.

‘Torres!’ he says, hurrying towards her, looking as relieved as she feels. ‘Uh… team?’

‘Sure, Starfleet,’ she says, too casual.

He grins awkwardly.

They’re assigned to repair some damaged bio-neural gel packs, and replace the ones that are beyond saving. Harry leads the way to the storage locker where the spares are kept, and hands them to her one by one as he pulls them out. They’re heavy and soft in her hands, and cool to the touch.

‘I’ve never even seen one of these before,’ she says, trying to keep the dismay from her voice. ‘I didn’t know they were already using them on starships.’

‘Voyager’s one of the first ships to use them,’ Harry says. ‘They’re much faster than isolinear chips, and less susceptible to a lot of common problems.’

He’s been on the ship five minutes longer than she has, and already there's a note of pride in his voice, of belonging.

‘Don’t worry,’ he says. ‘You’ll get the hang of them. Nobody else has really had the chance to work with them yet either. Voyager being a new ship means we’re all starting in the same place.’

‘Yeah, but I’ll bet you’ve had the schematics for weeks,’ she says.

‘Uh-huh,’ he says. ‘But I can share them with you. When we’re done here, let’s get a bite to eat and I can take you through the basics.’

He smiles so easily. She lets her lips quirk in response.

* * *

They meet in his quarters after every shift to work on it, until she gets assigned a permanent room of her own a few days later. She’s got nothing to put in it - almost everything she had was on the _Val Jean_ when it was destroyed. She hangs her one non-uniform outfit in the closet next to the mustard-and-blacks and her maintenance jumpsuit. She adjusts the accent lights by the windows, cycles through the colours until she sticks on red. There’s nothing else to do. She doesn’t even have enough replicator rations yet for a vase or an ornament for the table.

Harry turns up with a matching pair of oversized ceramic cups, and a plant.

‘There’s no space for these in my quarters,’ he says. ‘Want to take them off my hands?’

She grins. ‘Harry,’ she says, ‘you’re sweet but you’re a terrible liar. Come in.’

She takes the things and arranges them on the shelf by the window.

After that they alternate evenings, first in his quarters, then in hers. They look through schematics and procedures and regulations until her head spins, but she’s damned if any of these Starfleet engineers are going to catch her looking like she doesn’t know what she’s doing, so she asks questions and takes notes and falls asleep with diagrams of the ship’s innards floating inside her eyelids.

And then one day, she’s chief engineer.

Harry replicates two glasses of champagne on his rations and they toast to her success. Her pulse is still going at double speed from the adrenaline of walking into Engineering and actually giving orders all afternoon.

‘I think this means you can take an evening off from studying,’ he says.

She shakes her head. ‘No. It means I have to work harder. I have to know that engine room better than anyone.’

‘Aw, B’Elanna, one evening’s not going to make...’

‘I mean it, Starfleet. Quiz me on the fuel regulation systems again.’

* * *

They’re the only ones who sit together in the mess hall, not segregated by crew, until one lunchtime B’Elanna beckons Henley and Ayala to join them and Harry calls Paris and the Delaneys over, and then, slowly, the two crews begin to blend. Every time a Maquis crewmember sits with a Starfleet one, B’Elanna and Harry exchange a little private smile.

* * *

A couple of times she arrives at his quarters to find him looking out at the stars, pensive or misty-eyed.

‘I miss Libby,’ he tells her. ‘Some days I miss her so much I don’t know how I concentrate on anything else.’

B’Elanna squeezes his hand. ‘I know,’ she says.

But she doesn’t miss anyone, not that much. Her family is still here, stuck in the Delta Quadrant with her.

‘She’ll wait for you,’ she says. ‘We’ll figure out a way home soon, and she’ll be there when we get back.’

Harry doesn’t say anything, just looks at the stars and sighs. The next day, though, he’s his usual chipper self.

* * *

She lets Tom Paris organise Harry’s birthday party - he’s much better at that sort of thing - but she makes the cake with her own replicator rations and consults Susan Nicoletti on what sheet music to give him as a gift.

‘Happy birthday, Harry,’ she says, and she shoves the wrapped package at him like she didn’t spend hours pondering over the options Nicoletti gave her.

He unwraps it, beams at her as he realises what it is, and pulls her into a hug. She can’t help laughing, charmed by his enthusiasm.

‘You’ll have to play it for me later,’ she says.

The mess hall is packed - Harry’s popular with the Starfleet crew and the Maquis. He has plenty of friends to talk to, but he still loops his arm in hers and carries her along with him.

Neelix brings out the cake, and they sing. Harry closes his eyes like a child to blow out the candles, and she knows what he’s wishing for. She wishes it for him too, and for herself, when she lets herself really think about it.

 But for right now, as Harry grins at her and hands her a slice of cake, she kind of likes her life.


End file.
